#electronic gifts for men | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

panbotter · 6 months ago

Note

Hey so in reference to my previous ask, can you do one were the reader is having trouble controlling their powers (you can decide those) and either Kurt or Erik comfort them after a bad day and end up confessing to the reader. You can ad smut if you want but if not that's totally fine too☺️.

Your Existence is Grand

Erik Lehnsherr x gn!reader

Erik notices you having a rough day with your powers and decides to shower you with praise.

(This is my first fanfic literally ever so feedback appreciated, but also... Sorry for any mistakes!!!!)

Trigger warnings: cursing, suggestive themes (I don't know what else to write here, pls let me know if there's anything else I should add!)

The air around me begins buzzing and crackling, becoming charged with electricity and I sigh, deeply frustrated before I reach for the metal doorknob in front of me and receive a shock so strong that all the muscles in my arm cramp up painfully. I curse under my breath, forcing my arm to bend and stretch the tense muscles as I walk into the lounge, getting a glimpse of the others outside. Some might say I’d been gifted with a particularly powerful mutation, that it made me strong and intimidating. That I am admired for it, as if it’s a blessing to be grateful for.

But in this god-forsaken world, all I could see was a curse that plagued my body. I never bothered to understand the science behind it, as much as others might have tried to explain it to me. Something about the electricity in my body behaving abnormally, affecting the air around me and in turn, other electronics or conductors of electricity, turning me into a walking hazard around power lines, or thunderstorms. Let's not even mention the sheer amount of electrical fires I’ve caused. Sure, it sounds cool. But the reality is basically hell.

One of the ‘best’ parts about my mutation is that it is terribly unstable, especially when you’re constantly surrounded by electricity no matter where you go. Everyone else who charges up some static then touches a piece of metal receives a little sting from a silly little shock. It might be a little funny or perhaps surprising! Maybe it happens when you touch fingers with someone else and you shock each other, what a cute moment!

Try getting fucking electrocuted every single time.

Nowhere near as cute, nor as fun.

Some days are worse than others and the more restless I become, the worse it is for me in the end. But unfortunately, I can’t lay in bed immobile for an entire day to lower the voltage my body is producing, resulting in my current conundrum. Avoiding the rest of the X-Men in order to avoid any potential accidents, especially with Jubilee. Fireworks and a highly-charged mutant body surrounded by a bunch of high-tech only spells out bad news. Luckily, it seems like most of them were outside on the basketball court. That’s what I thought, at least.

“I take it you’re having a bad voltage day?” the voice of none other than Magneto startles me out of my thinking. It’s been more than a few months of him living here with us, but his presence is still unexpected. I had a hard time training the knee-jerk defensive reaction out of my body for the first few days, my body becoming charged up so quickly that I wouldn’t even have the chance to blink before I shot a bolt of electricity at him.

He was quick to show that a little spark didn’t do much to him, given that he was essentially a walking magnetic field.

I turn to him, his large form standing at the entrance to the lounge, “What makes you say that?” I turn back to watch as Scott and Logan start another argument, their voices muffled by the glass.

“The air keeps crackling and I have a hard time believing there’s a storm inside the building” he approaches until he pauses at my side. I chuckle a little, giving a wince once I feel my sore muscles constrict. He turns to watch me.

“Hm, I don’t know, maybe Storm has had enough of those two at each other’s throats” I try to joke but my voice falters, as my heart begins to race again and the sound of the air buzzing around me becomes overwhelming. Tremors begin rippling across my muscles, a mixture of them cramping and relaxing too fast for me to keep up with. Losing the strength in my legs, I stretch a hand out toward the glass in front of me to hold myself up but I miss the glass by a couple inches. Erik’s hands are quick to grab onto my arms before pulling me into his chest, supporting my weight as the crackling noise fills my ears and I let out a pained shout. My body releases a strong burst of electricity, most of it absorbed by Erik’s magnetic field, whilst the rest causes the power in the building to go out. I pant loudly, trying to catch my breath, feeling like my heart might’ve stopped in the middle of that.

The lights flicker around us before the power in the school hums back to life. Erik’s hands are still around me, I realize before beginning to step away, but his hold on me tightens. He pulls me back against his chest and I try to fight back the heat that’s slowly creeping up to my face. This is a bit embarrassing. I’ll admit it, I had grown to like Erik in the time he’d been with us, not to mention I had quite a few run-ins with him before I ever joined the X-Men. He always seemed so… Powerful, he always felt safe to be around. As radical as the Professor may claim he is, he always seemed… Right. You could hear the passion in his voice when he spoke of mutantkind and it made you want to side with him, to be loyal and to follow him to the ends of the Earth.

He had a powerful presence, and as I am now discovering, a powerful touch. One of the very few people who could come near me without fear of being electrocuted. My muscles had begun to twitch in the aftermath of the shock. These are the unfortunate moments where I wish I could be rid of my mutation. I could barely hold myself up and here I was in Erik’s arms.

“You should be resting” his voice was stern, but there was a hint of concern in there. I raise my gaze to meet his, feeling a bit of shame.

“I can’t just lay in bed all day, the world is still turning, there’s things to do…” I muttered.

“Precisely, the world is still turning and it will still continue to turn if you are at rest. You, on the other hand, are not a planet and you need to care for yourself”

I stare into his eyes, feeling them pierce through my soul. He always seemed to be right about everything… I chuckle under my breath as I regain some strength in my legs, straightening back up.

“I’m sure you must be tired of having to run after all of us like a babysitter” I joke as his arms come to rest on my shoulders once I’m stable on my feet.

A glint crosses his eyes, “I do wonder how Charles managed, and then I remember he’s a telepath, so it must’ve been quite easy for him” he replies with a smirk gracing his face that makes me laugh a little.

“He still struggled, you shouldn’t compare yourself to the Professor”

He begins to lead me toward the couch behind us, helping me take a seat before joining me. I still feel a hot streak of shame across my stomach, having him help me. Burdening him.

“Sorry, by the way… You’re right, I should be a little more considerate of others” I mutter.

Erik turns to look at me as I avoid making eye contact, “I don’t believe those were my words…” his hand reaches out toward my chin, gently turning my head to face him, “I only ask of you to rest and care for yourself, forget what the others may think”

I blinked up at him, “The Professor always wanted me to push past my limits, so that I can perhaps get stronger… Control my powers better”

“In a perfect world, you wouldn’t have to restrict your abilities, you could rule this planet with a wave of your hand, what you have is something to be proud of, not ashamed” he places his hand against my cheek and I find myself leaning against his warm touch, “Your mutation is a blessing, not a curse”

I scoff, “Sure doesn’t feel that way, I can’t even live among humans without shutting down an entire city’s power”

“Your powers shouldn’t be hidden, controlled, or restricted for the sake of humanity” he says the word with disdain, “but those are my beliefs, your existence is grand mein liebling”

My heart thumps against my chest loudly at his words. It feels… Intimate. How could he speak such high praise toward me?

“I see you hurt and I watch as you restrain yourself around others, as your mutation basically eats your body alive and it pains me…” his eyes gaze across my face, pausing at my lips before trailing back up to my eyes, “It pains me that you live in a world where you feel you cannot rest, where you feel you must hide the power within you”

“Erik…” I whisper, almost afraid to shatter the moment between us, “What are you… What are you saying…?” I peer into his eyes, seeing something brewing behind his gaze. Could it be possible that he’s… No, there’s no way.

“What do you believe I’m saying?” he whispers softly, leaning in toward me. I jump as a few sparks fly out from where he has his hand on my cheek. I can’t help my eyes dropping to his lips before rising back up to his eyes.

I feel the tension rise and in a desperate attempt to avoid it, I joke, “If I was delusional, I might think you’re trying to confess to me right now” I laugh a little to dispel the tension. His gaze was still just as intense so I failed, but I tried my best.

A smile graced his features, “Yes… Perhaps if you were delusional, you might see that I am actually confessing my feelings for you right now” he says it so casually I almost think he’s playing along with my joke, but as my eyes widen, so does his smile.

“Are you…?” my voice wavers a little. I feel my heart drop, realizing he’s probably joking with me. I turn away from his hand, lightly pushing his chest to put distance between us.

“Is this some sort of joke? Come on, Erik… You know that’s… It’s unrealistic” I mutter, a man like him would never love someone like me, that’s not how it works… Maybe in the movies, or in a fairytale perhaps.

“Mein liebling, perhaps I haven’t been clear enough with you” he wraps his arms around my shoulders and pulls me in close, closer than before, “do you prefer a visual demonstration instead? I can give you that, you only need to ask” he smiles before slowly leaning in, giving me enough time to back out if I wished, but I find myself leaning in, eager to feel his lips against mine.

As soon as our lips locked together, sealed at last, a burst of electric sparks flew out from our lips and I giggled into the kiss. I mean, how ironic is that? I felt real, literal sparks and fireworks from the kiss and it made my lips tingly. Erik smiles into the kiss before deepening it, his hand rising up toward my hair while the other trailed down my back and I found myself desperate to be closer to him, wrapping my arms around his neck, clumsily climbing over to sit on his lap. We part right as I begin losing my breath and he trails a burning, tingly trail of kisses down my jaw before he stops by my ear.

With a whisper that blew across the nape of my neck, “I see more than just greatness in you, so much more…” The words are charged with intention, passion, and sincerity. I shudder as the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end and I bite back a moan as he continues kissing down my neck. I take a sharp breath in as he begins sucking on a tender spot before I suddenly realize what we’re doing…

Where we’re doing it.

I turn slightly to peek at the windows, making sure the others are still thoroughly distracted with playing before I feel Erik bite my skin and a moan breaks out, “Wait! Erik… We’re… In the lounge…”

He lifts his head, and the dark look in his blue eyes makes me clench my legs in anticipation, “We’ll just have to be fast… And quiet… Can you do that?” He taunts me with a question I don’t even get the chance to answer before he lays me down on the couch, climbing over me, “I’m just helping you relax, that’s not a sin, is it?” He looks down at me with a hungry gaze and I feel my cheeks burn.

“I guess not”

“Show me what else you can do with these sparks of yours”

496 notes · View notes

arcadia345 · 2 years ago

Text

Astro observations🌺

FYI I’m not a real astrologer, just my observations :) TW🔞

The cancer moon men I know are pretty chill and laid back + funny, but the women are so bitchy and moody😭 with a big sweet tooth

Every twin I know either has Gemini or Pisces placements

You ever meet someone and their neck just stands out for some reason added points if they smell good, most likely they’re a Taurus rising/ mars. Good example is Megan thee stallion her neck is so cute to me hehe

Aries in the chart can show you the things you were introduced to at a very young age, the early memories that you think of and say ‘That was wild lol’

3rd: could’ve started learning way before you started school(like flash cards and things) siblings and cousins, music, having access to electronics early

4th: erratic home life, the woman around you could be go getters

6th: could’ve got a lot of injuries when younger, probably couldn’t have a peaceful day even if you tried, bad experiences with animals

7th: domestic abuse, might have seen people having affairs, lots of disagreements between couples

12th:paranormal events, you could’ve had a lot of deja vu moments without even knowing, tend to have strong spiritual gifts,people having ill intentions towards you

Aquarius moon or degree/ moon in the 11th tend to have a “second mom” a person that treats them like their one of their own children, sometimes even better than their own mother does. 🌚

The people with mars in the first house I know have so many battle scars on their body

Moon/cancer in 3rd love changing their voices, and they have a bad habit of not telling the whole truth / white lies

Water sign on the descendent- people are always wondering what you’re up to, no matter how much you show them they’ll still wanna know what you’re hiding

Your first house correlates to how you came into this world, I have Chiron (ruled by Virgo) in my 12 conjunct my ascendant, uhm she said she almost d*ed having me😀 and I was a C-section baby. And the hospital did her so dirty(you know much they hate black women) they didn’t even stitch her back up correctly or drain her fluids and to this day she still has problems. The also gave her extra dosages of drugs just cause she’s a plus size woman- honestly I could go on and on but it really correlates with my cap rising and Neptune/Uranus in 1st

Mercury ☌ Sun, these people voices are just💋💋 they sound so sensual and unique ugh hard to explain it but 🥴 ex. Jungkook , Tupac

Gemini/ Libra in 2nd love collecting things like figurines makeup clothes candles plushies, could easily be a borderline hoarder tho

Ives noticed that sun in 10th have a strained relationship with their father, but their later years in life their relationship gets better, or not could really go either way, also could have money issues in their early years but ends up climbing the corporate ladder. It may take you a while to tho but just know it’ll be worth it in the end :) also they always stand out at their work place in some way, the coworker that you’re glad to see clock in at rush hour cause you know they gonna handle shit

Venus- mercury positive aspects love giving out nicknames to their favorite people 🥺if they’re always calling you cute names just know they really care about you lol

Sag moons and degrees have no chill😀 like calm down bae sag anything tbh🚬

9th house ruler in the 11th could go to the same college with their old friends or could become very popular in the area they’re in, I think they’d make good bloggers

Air signs or degrees in 5th are trend setters.

Aquarius you inspire people, they could take things and make it into their own like art

With gemini here people will “copy & paste” ur looks. But no matter what it just looks like a knockoff version of what you did lmao it just never look as good as yours

Libra here people are very opinionated on how you express yourself either in a good way or bad, neither less you guys get a lot of compliments on your style

Every time I see a Capricorn rising with Neptune in the 1st it’s like their skin is see through and fragile😯makes sense tho since caps rule the skin and Neptune fogs things up. A good example is Ariana Grande her skin looks so delicate

Pluto/Scorpio in the 11th/11th house ruler in 8th, your friends could hate each other🤺 also they could have a rough life/childhood, trauma bonding or just experiencing traumatic events together is common here

Chiron in Aries (honestly any Aries placements it just depends on where it is), most people didn’t pay attention to them in their childhood in some way so they learned to be independent because of their lack of support cardinal things fr

That’s all for today! Give me a follow if you enjoyed💕

2K notes · View notes

cheynovak · 6 months ago

Text

Something fragile

Soldier Boy x F/Reader Y/N

Warnings: Toxic masculinity, cursing, violence, alcohol drug use, cursing, mentioning of sex, I think that’s it? ...

Side note: English isn’t my first language

Words: 6600

*Does not follow the boys storyline *

Soldier boy just got out of Russia thanks to the boys. But his journey back to reality has been fucked up. Streets are filled with rainbow colours and new pussy looking heroes. Streets were even more crowded, nothing seemed the same anymore. And to top it all off he had some severe ptsd and a new superpower.

After the explosion he ran to recover his blackout, meeting y/n a young woman on her way home from volunteering at the veteran shelter. Seeing how he looked confused, offering him help.

Ben, known to the world as Soldier Boy, stumbled through the bustling streets of downtown New York. The sun was blinding after so many years in the dark, cold confines of a Russian facility.

Forty years of captivity had left his mind in a haze, his body in a state of perpetual tension. Every sound, every face, was an assault on his senses. He blinked against the garish lights of electronic billboards and the incessant buzz of smartphones.

People moved past him in waves, their faces buried in glowing screens, oblivious to the world around them. Ben felt like he had stepped into a dream, a strange, incomprehensible dream. As he walked, his eyes darted from one unfamiliar sight to another.

Men holding hands, walking side by side with easy intimacy. Ben's lips curled into a reflexive sneer. He couldn't help it; the world he had known was gone, replaced by something that felt alien and uncomfortable.

The 1980s had their problems, but this? This was beyond his understanding. He rubbed his temples, trying to stave off the headache building behind his eyes. The memories of his captivity were like shadows, lurking at the edges of his mind, ready to pounce the moment he let his guard down. He had to stay focused, had to keep moving.

As he passed a café, the smell of coffee and pastries wafted out, mingling with the scents of car exhaust and city grime. Ben's stomach growled, reminding him that he hadn't eaten a decent meal in ages. He paused, glancing around warily, wishing he had a few dollars in his pocket.

Lost in thought, a voice pulled his attention away from the widow. "Excuse me, are you okay sir?" Ben looked up to see a young woman with concern in her eyes. "Yeah" He wanted to walk on. “Are you eh, hungry or thirsty something?” Ben looked confused at her. “I can get you something if you want?” she added in a sweet voice.

“Let a woman buy me a fucking coffee? What a fucking pussy would that make me.” and he walked on.

Ben continued down the street, the sights and sounds of the modern world were overwhelming, a constant reminder of how much time had passed and how out of place he was. As he walked, a familiar melody reached his ears. It was faint, but unmistakable, the haunting strains of a Russian folk song that had played endlessly in the lab where they had experimented on him.

The song was a cruel reminder of his years of suffering, a soundtrack to his nightmares. His pulse quickened, and his vision blurred. The world around him seemed to tilt, and he could feel the panic rising, his breath coming in short, shallow gasps.

The radiation within him, the cursed gift of his captivity, began to stir, responding to his heightened emotional state. Suddenly, without warning, a burst of energy erupted from his chest. The street around him exploded in a violent flash of light and heat. The force of the blast shattered windows, sent cars flying, and threw pedestrians to the ground.

Screams filled the air as chaos erupted. Ben staggered, disoriented and horrified by the idea what he had done. He had no control over this power, no way to stop it once it started. The destruction was immense, and he could hear the wails of the injured and the dying.

His heart pounded in his chest. Y/N heard the explosion and felt the shockwave. She had been walking away from the café, thinking about the troubled man she had just met. When she saw the devastation and the panicked crowd, her first instinct was to help.

She pushed her way through the throngs of fleeing people, her heart racing with fear and determination. She spotted him through the smoke and debris, standing in the centre of the chaos, looking lost and broken. She rushed to his side, her eyes wide with shock at the scene around her.

"Hey, are you okay?" she asked, reaching out to touch his arm. The heat radiating from his body made her flinch, but she didn't back away. "I... I didn't mean to..." Ben stammered, over and over. Y/N looked around, her mind racing. She had to get him away from here, away from the people he might hurt.

"We need to get you out of here," she said firmly. "Come with me." Ben nodded, dazed and compliant. He allowed her to lead him away from the scene of destruction, away from the horror he had unleashed. They ducked into an alley, where the noise of the city was slightly muffled, and Y/N took a moment to catch her breath.

"Listen," she said, her voice urgent but calm. "I don't know what happened to you, but you're not alone, okay? I'll help you." Ben looked at her. "Why are you helping me?" "Because you need it," Y/N replied simply. "And because everyone deserves a chance."

Ben nodded slowly, the weight of his guilt and fear still heavy on his shoulders. Y/N supported Ben as they walked through the quieter streets, her arm around his waist to steady him. His weight pressed heavily against her, but she didn't falter. She was determined to help him, no matter what it took.

The path they took was familiar to her, one she had walked many times on her way to the veteran help centre where she volunteered. The centre was closed at this hour, but Y/N had a key. She glanced around to make sure no one was watching before unlocking the door and guiding Ben inside.

The cool, dim interior was a stark contrast to the chaos outside, a sanctuary from the madness of the world. "Sit here," Y/N said softly, helping Ben into a chair in the small break room. She quickly moved to the kitchenette, grabbing a bottle of water and a granola bar from the cupboards.

She handed them to Ben, who took them with trembling hands. "What's this shit?" he muttered, his voice barely audible. But still opening the drink. Y/N sat across from him, ignoring his muttering complains, watching as he opened the bottle and took a sip. She could see the exhaustion etched into his features, the lines of pain and weariness that spoke of years of torment.

"You're safe here," she said gently. "Take your time. Eat something.” Ben’s eyes fixed on her. He unwrapped the granola bar and took a small bite, chewing slowly. The simple act of eating seemed to ground him, to bring him back from the edge.

"Why are you helping?" he said after a moment. "You don't even know me."

"I know enough," Y/N replied. Ben leaned back in the chair, the weight of his ordeal starting to lift, if only slightly. He looked around the room, taking in the posters on the walls, the pamphlets about support groups and therapy sessions.

His expression hardened, and he scoffed. "What kind of shit is this?" he muttered, pushing the granola bar away. "A place for vets who have difficulties getting back to the real world." Y/N answered ignoring the disgusting look on his face. "For who can’t handle their crap? PTSD, trauma... that's for fuck-ups who can't cut it. Real men don’t need this kind of help."

Y/N sighed, her patience unyielding. She had encountered this attitude before. She knew it was a defence mechanism, a way to mask vulnerability. "What's your name?" He didn't answer, "I'm Y/N..." she said hoping he would be willing to answer if she took the first step. "Ok doll." was all he said, she didn't push further.

"PTSD is real. It doesn’t make you weak or a 'fuck-up.' It means you've been through something traumatic, something no one should have to face alone." Ben’s eyes flashed with anger. "I've faced plenty alone and survived. Don't need a bunch of pity and hand-holding to get by." "

I’m not offering pity," Y/N said firmly. "I’m offering support. There’s a difference. Some have been through hell, and it's okay to need help coming back from that." Ben clenched his fists, the tension in his body palpable.

"You don't get it," he snapped. "I was a soldier. I fought, bled, and survived on my own. This..." he gestured around the room “... this is for people who can't handle the easy world." Y/N met his gaze steadily.

"Maybe you did survive on your own, but that doesn’t mean you have to keep doing it alone. Needing help doesn’t make you less of a man. It makes you human." He looked away, the anger in his eyes giving way to something more vulnerable.

"You don't know what it's like. What they did to me..." "No, I don't," Y/N admitted. "But I do know that what you're feeling is valid. And that this place exists because too many people try to do it alone and end up hurting themselves or others."

Ben shook his head, "Bullshit" Y/N looked him in the eye. "Is it? Didn't you just blow up in the middle of the street? Literally?" He looked at her, his eyes searching hers for some kind of hate or reluctance, maybe even fear but all he saw was reassurance, patience.

Ben stood up abruptly, the chair scraping loudly against the floor. His movements were restless, his mind clearly in turmoil. He began to walk toward the door, but Y/N called after him, her voice gentle but firm.

"Wait. If you ever feel like talking, or just need a place to be... I'll be here on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. Other days, there are other people who can help if you don't want to talk to me. You don’t have to go through this alone."

He paused at the door, glancing back at her. For a moment, it seemed like he might say something, but instead, he just nodded curtly and walked out into the night. The next day, Y/N was cleaning up after a session, stacking chairs and tidying the break room. That day had been busy, and she was exhausted, but it was a good kind of tired, the kind that came from helping others.

She was lost in thought, reflecting on the day’s work, when she heard the soft chime of the bell above the door. "We're closing," she called out over her shoulder. "The next session is tomorrow." There was a pause, and then a familiar voice responded. "It's me... Ben."

Y/N turned around, surprised but not displeased. Ben stood in the doorway, looking uncertain but determined. He seemed a little more composed than the day before, but the haunted look in his eyes was still there. "Ben..." she said, offering a warm smile. "I'm glad you came back. Come on in."

He stepped inside, closing the door behind him. "I'm not sure what I'm doing here " he admitted. Y/N nodded, gesturing to one of the chairs. "Have a seat. I was just finishing up, but I’m here if you need to talk."

Ben sat down, his movements still a bit stiff. "I don’t know where to start." Ben settled into the chair, looking around the room before finally meeting Y/N’s patient gaze. “Where you feel like.” He seemed to gather his thoughts, taking a deep breath.

“Everything’s different now,” he began, his voice tinged with frustration. “The world... it’s nothing like what I remember. People, technology, everything’s changed. It's like I don’t recognize it anymore.”

Y/N nodded, her expression encouraging him to continue. “I mean, look at the way people are glued to their weird portable phones,” Ben continued, gesturing vaguely. “No one talks to each other face-to-face. Back in my day, if you had something to say, you said it. Now, it’s all that small shitty thing. And the clothes people wear… men walking around in clothing, colours I wouldn’t have been caught dead in.”

He paused, running a hand through his hair. “And don’t even get me started on the way people talk about feelings. PTSD? Trauma? In my time, you just sucked it up and got on with it.”

Y/N listened attentively, her expression understanding. She knew better than to interrupt; sometimes, people just needed to voice their frustrations. “Even the food is different,” Ben continued, his tone a mix of incredulity and irritation.

“Everything’s organic, gluten-free, plant-based crap. What happened to a good old-fashioned burger and fries? And the music… nothing like the rock ‘n roll I grew up with. It’s all electronic noise now.”

He shook his head, his shoulders slumping slightly. “I feel like I don’t belong here. Like the world moved on and left me behind. I was a soldier once, a fucking hero. Now, I’m just...” Y/N waited a moment to make sure he was done before she spoke.

"How long were you gone?" Ben's eyes locked on her, ignoring her question and stood up to leave. Y/N called after him. "Do you have a place to stay tonight?" He turned back to face her, his expression guarded.

"No," he admitted. "I didn't need much sleep since I got back." Y/N frowned, concern etched across her features. "You need a place. There’s a motel nearby. I can arrange a room for you, but only if you agree to come to the sessions here every week."

Ben laughed, a rough, humourless sound. "You’re really something, you know that? Since when are woman making deals like that. But alright, I need a place. I'll come to you for sessions. Only you, no one else."

Y/N nodded without hesitation. "Of course. Deal. Every Friday?" Ben smiles looking her up and down while licking his lips. "Sure doll... I see you on Friday." "Tell the motel owner I send you."

Next Friday

Y/N waited anxiously at the centre for Ben to arrive. She checked the clock repeatedly, her concern growing as the minutes ticked by without any sign of him. Finally, she decided to head to the motel to check on him.

When she reached his door, she knocked firmly. After a few moments, the door opened, and she was taken aback to see an elderly woman standing there, looking slightly embarrassed. "Excuse me," Y/N said, trying to keep her voice calm. "I’m looking for Ben. Is he here?"

The woman glanced back over her naked shoulder, and Ben’s voice called out from inside. "Just in time doll, why don’t you join us." Y/N stepped into the doorway, seeing Ben sitting on the bed naked with a mirror filled with powder in his hand.

“Oh my...” Y/N turned around covering her eyes seeing the woman quickly gathered her things, brushing past her as she left the room in a hurry. Y/N’s heart sank as she saw the mess inside and the unmistakable signs of a night spent with company.

Ben sat on the edge of the bed, looking unrepentant. "To what do I own this suprise," he said with a smirk. “We had an appointment, remember?” She glanced over at him. “Can you please cover up?” He said looking up at the ceiling.

"Yeah about that talk, I don’t need your help sweetheart. I just needed a good fuck and something to calm me down." Y/N felt a wave of disappointment and concern. "Ben, this isn’t the way to deal with what you’re going through. You said you’d come to the sessions."

He scoffed, standing up and moving closer to her, putting on dirty sweatpants. "They’re for people who need a shoulder to cry on. I’m not one of them. But if you really want to make it up to me for scaring off my company, you could always... continue where she left off." He nodded to his crotch.

"Stop right there," Y/N cut him off, her voice firm and filled with a mix of anger and sadness. "I’m here to help you, not to be manipulated or disrespected. You’re better than this, Ben. I know you are."

He looked at her, a flicker of something, shame, maybe, crossing his face before it hardened again. "You don’t know anything about me."

"I know you’re hurting," Y/N said, refusing to back down. "And I know you’re scared. But pushing people who want to help away isn’t going to help. You need to face what’s going on inside you. Literally!”

Ben clenched his fists, his jaw tightening. "I don’t need your pity."

"It’s not pity," Y/N said quietly. "It’s compassion. And it’s a lifeline, if you’re willing to take it. But you have to want to change, Ben. No one can force you." For a moment, the room was silent. Y/N took a deep breath, trying to stay calm.

"Ben, if you're more comfortable, we can keep the sessions here in the motel room. But you have to promise I won't walk in on anything like this again." Ben's smirk widened as he walked closer to her, his eyes dark and intent.

He reached out, his hands gripping her arms and pulling her closer to him. Y/N recoiled, anger and fear flashing in her eyes. "Ben, let go of me," she said firmly, her voice shaking slightly. He leaned in, his breath warm against her ear, feeling his beard softly scratching, as he whispered,

"Don't take away my needs for women and drugs, or I'll take it out on you." Y/N's heart pounded in her chest, but she refused to let fear control her. She forced herself to stand her ground, her eyes meeting his with unwavering resolve.

"This isn't a joke, Ben. You need help, and I'm here to offer it. But I won't be intimidated or manipulated by you." For a moment, Ben's grip tightened, his eyes searching hers for any sign of weakness. When he found none, his expression wavered, uncertainty flickering across his face.

He released her abruptly, stepping back. "Fine," he muttered, his bravado faltering. "We'll have the sessions here. But you better not try to change me."

"I’m not here to change you," Y/N said, rubbing her arms where his hands had held her. "I’m here to help you find a way to live with what you’ve been through. But you have to meet me halfway. See me as, i don’t know, a friend?" Ben looked away, his jaw clenching.

"I don’t need a friend" he muttered, but his voice lacked its usual conviction. "Yes, you do," Y/N said softly.

As Y/N turned to leave, her mind racing with concern and frustration. She reached the door, Ben called out, stopping her in her tracks. "Where are you going?" he asked, his tone a mix of annoyance and challenge.

"I want the session now." She looked back at him, her eyes narrowing as he nodded toward the bed. Thinking this was process. "Sit," he said padding the bed next to him, but she hesitated, her gaze fixed on the rumpled sheets that were a stark reminder of what had just happened there.

"No," Y/N replied firmly. "I'll sit over here." She moved to a chair by the small table, positioning herself as far from the bed as possible. "Let’s talk, go ahead." She said, Ben watched her for a moment, sitting on the bed, leaning back against the headboard.

"Fine." He took a deep breath, his expression darkening as he began. "Back in the day, women knew their place. They knew how to treat a man. They'd do anything to please me, anything I wanted. They'd cook, clean, and make sure I was taken care of in bed. They’d do whatever it took to make me happy. They understood what real men need."

Y/N's stomach turned at his words, but she kept her expression neutral, listening intently. "Nowadays, it’s different," Ben continued, a sneer in his voice. "Women think they can do whatever they want. They don’t respect men like they used to. They want to be equal, to have careers and opinions. It’s all bullshit. They don’t know how to take care of a real man. They think they're entitled to everything, without giving anything in return."

He leaned forward, his eyes locking onto hers, trying to see her reaction. "The women I’ve been with since I got back... they don’t measure up. They’re too independent, too... modern. They don’t understand what a man like me needs. They just complain and whine, instead of doing their job."

Y/N forced herself to stay calm, her mind racing as she processed his toxic words. "Ben, do you really think that’s what relationships are supposed to be like? One person serving the other without any mutual respect or partnership?" He scoffed. "Partnership? Respect? Those are just modern buzzwords. Real relationships are about roles. Men lead, women follow. It’s how it’s always been."

"Does that make you happy?" Y/N asked quietly. "Do those kinds of relationships fulfil you? Or do they leave you feeling empty and alone after they leave?" Ben’s expression faltered for a moment, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his face before he masked it with anger.

Y/N pushed his buttons just a little more, “Is that why you didn’t want me to leave? Because then you’ll be alone?” Ben’s lip twitched "You don’t know what you're talking about. You’re just another modern woman who thinks she can lecture me about life."

"I’m not trying to lecture you, Ben," Y/N said softly. "I’m trying to understand you. But more importantly, I want you to understand yourself. These beliefs, this anger... it’s not just about the world changing. It’s about you feeling lost and trying to find control in a world that’s different from what you knew."

He glared at her, but didn’t interrupt. "Let’s dig deeper," Y/N continued. "Why do you feel the need of control over women? What are you really afraid of?" Y/N’s question seemed to strike a nerve. Ben’s expression darkened, and he abruptly stood up, in two paces he stood tall, towering over her.

His voice rose as he leaned in close, anger radiating from him. "Why do I feel the need to exert control? What am I afraid of? You don’t know anything about me!" Y/N didn't flinch. She met his gaze steadily, her calmness a contrast to his rage. This seemed to catch him off guard, and he paused, staring at her with a mix of curiosity and frustration.

"Here she is, lecturing men but this little princess is just as big of a fuck up like the men she helps, isn’t she?" he demanded, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper. "Most people would be scared, what did you see that made you a stone-cold bitch?"

Y/N took a deep breath, maintaining her composure, not willing to share her story with him just yet, but he needed something from her to build trust. "I’ve faced fear before, Ben. I grew up as the daughter of a veteran. My father came back from war a different man. He was aggressive, a drunk. He’d beat me whenever he felt like it, accidently killed my mother in front of me while he was high and saw things there weren’t. So no, Ben, you don’t scare me."

Ben’s eyes widened slightly, surprise flickering across his face, maybe even a little regret. He stepped back, his anger momentarily replaced by something else, perhaps respect, perhaps understanding, perhaps pity. "So, you have daddy issues, poor baby.”

"I’ve had help" Y/N said softly. "But understand this, Ben: I've seen what anger and no control can do to a person. It doesn’t lead to happiness or peace. It leads to more pain.” Y/N stood up, stepping closed to him, toe to toe.

Her eyes were unwavering, her voice firm. "I have patience, Ben. But lose your temper like this one more time, and you'll be alone. Understand?" Ben’s lip twitched in anger. He moved the chair aside, placed his hands against the wall behind her, leaning in close.

"Maybe I should teach you some manners," he growled, his breath hot against her face. Y/N didn’t flinch. She looked him straight in the eyes, her voice steady and cold.

"Go ahead, try it. But understand this: I’ve dealt with men like you my whole life. You think you can intimidate me? You’re wrong. And if you do this, you’ll lose the only person who’s trying to help you. Do you really want to go down that road?"

For a moment, they stood there, locked in a silent standoff. Ben’s eyes were filled with rage, but beneath it, Y/N could see a flicker of doubt and confusion. Slowly, his hands dropped to his sides, and he stepped back, a mix of anger and frustration playing across his features.

“Good," Y/N said. "Now, let’s get back to talking. We’re not done yet." - “Oh no, we’re done for today doll.” he said opening the door. She followed him.

Y/N walked through the door Ben held open for her, her eyes briefly and unconsciously sweeping over his toned chest, noticing the small freckles scattered across his skin, similar to the ones on his face.

She took a deep breath, focusing back on the conversation. "Ben," she said, her voice firm but kind, "see my advice as tough love. I'm a friend who wants to help you, not someone you can... fuck around with"

Ben's smirk returned, a hint of genuine amusement in his eyes. "Tough love, huh? Never thought I'd hear that from you." Y/N raised an eyebrow, her expression unwavering. "Well, get used to it. I'm not here to cuddle you. I'm here to help you find a way to live in this new world, to help you become the person you want to be."

He studied her for a moment, then nodded. "Alright, I get it. Tough love it is." She nodded back, feeling a small sense of victory. "Good. I'll see you next week. Same time." As she walked away, she felt his eyes on her, a mix of curiosity and respect in his gaze.

It was a start, and for now, that was enough. She had made it clear that she wouldn't be pushed around, and Ben seemed to understand that. One step at a time, she reminded herself.

In the following sessions, Ben was more composed. He wore clothing and there were no unexpected visitors, though Y/N could still smell the lingering scent of sex in the air and noticed the traces of cocaine on the mirror beside his bed. Despite these signs, he began to talk more openly, allowing her to glimpse the deeper layers of his pain.

One evening, as they sat across from each other, Ben finally broached a subject he had been avoiding. "My team... they betrayed me," he said, his voice tight with suppressed emotion. Y/N leaned in slightly, encouraging him to continue.

"Tell me more about that," she said gently. He took a deep breath, his eyes distant as he recounted the memories. "We were supposed to be a unit, a family. But they sold me out. They handed me over to the Russians.”

He took his time to think about his next words. “Forty years, doll. Forty years in that hellhole because of them." Y/N nodded, her expression empathetic. "That must have been incredibly painful, feeling that betrayal from people you trusted."

Ben's hands clenched into fists, his knuckles white. "It was more than painful. It broke me. I thought I could trust them, but they were just using me. And when I was no longer useful, they discarded me. Even my own girl."

"It's understandable to feel angry and hurt," Y/N said softly. "But holding onto that anger will only continue to harm you. You need to find a way to process those feelings, to let go of the pain, if you want to move forward."

He looked at her, his eyes filled with a mixture of anger and vulnerability. After weeks of sessions, Y/N felt they had made enough progress to broach a crucial topic. As they sat in the motel room, Ben seemed more relaxed, though the ever-present tension lingered beneath the surface.

"Ben," Y/N began, her voice steady, "do you want to be Soldier Boy again?" He looked up, startled. "How do you...?" Y/N smiled, a hint of amusement in her eyes. "I've been listening, the pieces of your story. The details, the hints. I put them together."

Ben's surprise turned into a wry smile. "You're smarter than you look." His eyes roamed her body like they did so often, at first, she felt uncomfortable by it, now she had learned the difference is his looks.

This one wasn’t filled with heat, or not as much, no it was more an appreciation look.

"Thanks, I think," Y/N replied, chuckling. "But seriously, do you want to go back to that life? To being Soldier Boy?"

He leaned back, scratching his beard. "I don’t know. Part of me does. It’s all I’ve ever known. But another part of me wants to kill my old team and move on." Y/N ignored his lasts sentence.

As they continued their conversation, Y/N felt a growing sense of optimism. Seeing Ben was starting to see beyond his past, to consider a future that wasn’t defined by his old identity.

As Y/N ended their session she stood up and placed a hand on his arm. “You did good today Ben, I'm proud of you.” She could see the shock in his eyes, realising no one had ever told him they were proud of him. Not as sincerely like she just did.

Ben’s eyes flickered to her lips and back a few times, so, before he could so something to ruin their bond she turned away. “See you next week.”

Next week

Ben paced the motel room, glancing at the clock every few minutes. Y/N was late. He tried to convince himself that maybe she was just held up, but as the minutes ticked by, anger began to simmer.

Just when he had started to open up, to trust her, she didn't show up. The feeling of abandonment gnawed at him, intensifying his frustration. He threw the table a crossed the room, trying to let go of his anger.

Deep down he knew she was like everyone else, thinking: “Maybe the fact that he was Soldier Boy pushed her away? Fucking pussy, you shouldn’t have told her about your fucking feelings. Man the fuck up!”

By Saturday, his anger had turned into a determined need for answers. He decided to walk by the centre where Y/N volunteered, hoping to find her there, she told him the last weeks she had fulltime hours.

He needed some explanation. As he approached, he saw her at the doors, but she wasn't alone. A man in a suit stood with her, and they were arguing heatedly. Ben's eyes narrowed as he watched the exchange.

The man gestured aggressively, his face twisted in anger. Y/N flinched at his movement, just so slight that most people wouldn't notice, but Ben did. Knowing she doesn’t flinch just like that unless...

His anger flared, a protective instinct kicking in. He strode up to them, his presence immediately drawing their attention. "Hey!" Ben barked, stepping between Y/N and the man.

"What's going on here?" The man in the suit turned to face him, irritation clear in his eyes. "This is none of your business caveman, leave." Ben's gaze hardened. "It is my business if you're bothering her."

“Oh...” the man looked at Y/N “This is one of your little projects!” Turning back to Ben. “I’m sorry buddy, but I need to talk to my girl.” Ben looked at Y/B seeing her face twitch at the words ‘my girl’.

“Just go away Peter. We’re done I told you last night.” But then Ben noticed something he hadn't seen before: a faint bruise on Y/N's cheek, barely hidden by makeup. His eyes narrowed, and his chest tightened with anger.

Ben glanced at Y/N, who noticed his eyes on her and looked away, clearly distressed. "Who is this guy, Y/N?" She hesitated before speaking, her voice barely above a whisper. "He's my ex-boss and... ex-boyfriend."

The man's sneer grew. "We were just having a conversation. Nothing for you to worry about." Ben's eyes flicked back to the man, his anger simmering just below the surface. "A conversation that left a bruise on her face?"

The man's expression turned smug. "She left me because of one little mistake. She needs to learn her place. I’m sure you understand." Ben's chest began to glow faintly, his rage manifesting physically. "You piece of shit."

The ex-boyfriend didn't seem to notice the glow at first, but when Y/N placed her hand on Ben's chest, trying to calm him, she gasped in pain, pulling her hand back with a burn. "Ben, stop!" she cried, her eyes wide with fear and concern.

The man took a step back, finally realizing he was pissing of a supe. "What the hell...." Before Ben could react further, Y/N stepped in front of him, her unburned hand on his arm, pleading.

"Ben, please. Calm down. Don’t let him get to you. This isn’t the way." Ben's eyes met hers, and the glow began to fade as he struggled to control his anger. His fists unclenched, but his eyes remained fixed on the man.

"You’re lucky she’s here. But if I ever see you near her again, I won’t hold back." The ex-boyfriend, now visibly shaken, took another step back. "So now you take care of freaks too?" he muttered. “I hope they can fix your issues.” he added before walking away.

Ben looked at her, opening the door for her so she could get inside. ”Let me see your hand.” Y/N shook her head, “I can take care of myself.” But Ben thought differently, pushing her toward the table, his eyes demanding her to sit down.

Ben searched around the kitchen for the first aid kit, his movements still tense from the encounter. When he found it, he brought it over to Y/N and carefully began treating her burned hand.

"So, you slept with your boss," he remarked, his tone carrying a hint of teasing scepticism. Y/N smirked, wincing slightly as the cool ointment touched her skin. "Never thought that was your kink," Ben chuckled, the tension easing slightly.

"I though more in the line of, older man, calling them daddy, spanking your perfect little ass... Guess I’ve still got a lot to learn about you." He looked up at her, seeing her reaction, she tried to hide a smile, the humour lightening the mood.

"It was a mistake," she admitted, her expression growing more serious. "We were together before he was my boss. Things were good at first, but then he had stress, started drinking more, and everything went downhill."

Ben nodded, listening when she finally opened up to him. “I saw my father in him, determine to heal him before he could hurt anyone.” she said looking at his hands gentle as he wrapped her hand in a bandage.

"And then he hit you?" Ben asked without joking about her ‘daddy issues’ - "Yeah," she said softly. "That was the last straw. I couldn’t stay with him after that." Ben finished wrapping her hand, his eyes meeting hers with a mix of concern and respect.

"You did the right thing by leaving. No one deserves to be treated like that." She looked confused at him, he noticed "Just because I think a woman should be at home, cooking for her man, please him doesn't mean I would hit her... unless she likes a little spanking in the bedroom." He winks at her.

She could feel the soft pink on her cheeks burning, "Thanks, Ben," she said, her smile returning. Ben looked at Y/N after taking care of her hand, a sense of resolve in his eyes. "I need to take care of a few things," he said, his voice gentle but determined.

"You won't be seeing me for a while." Y/N nodded, understanding the weight of his words. Ben looked at Y/N, concern etched in his features. "Are you going to be okay being alone?"

Y/N met his gaze, her expression softening. "Are you?" He chuckled, a hint of self-awareness in his laughter. "No, not really." She nodded, a small smile playing on her lips. "Me neither."

Y/N looked at Ben, her expression turning serious. "What are your plans?" Ben hesitated, his gaze flickering away for a moment before returning to hers. "I... I'm going to visit an old friend," he admitted reluctantly.

"Someone who can help me get my suit back." Y/N's brows furrowed in concern. "Your suit? Why do you need that?" He looked away again, the weight of his words heavy on his shoulders. "To... settle some unfinished business.” Her eyes widened in alarm. "Ben, you can't be serious.”

"I have to," he insisted, his voice tight with determination. "They betrayed me, Y/N. They left me to rot in that hellhole for forty years. I can't just let that go." Y/N reached out, taking his hand in hers, her touch gentle but firm. "Please, Ben. Think about what you're doing. Revenge won't heal anything."

As Ben and Y/N looked at each other, there was a palpable tension in the air. For the first time, they felt a stirring of attraction, a spark igniting between them. Y/N's gaze lingered on Ben in a way she hadn't before, truly seeing him for the first time.

She noticed the depth of his green eyes, the curve of his full lips, the scattering of freckles across his skin. There was a ruggedness to him, a rawness that drew her in. Ben found himself captivated by Y/N in a way he hadn't expected.

He couldn't tear his eyes away from her lips, imagining the softness of them against his own. He felt a pull towards her, a magnetic force that seemed to draw them closer with each passing moment.

Slowly, almost instinctively, they began to close the space between them. The air crackled with anticipation as their breaths mingled, their hearts beating in sync. In that moment her hands moved to his cheek, a tender gesture as she pulled him closer and kissed him softly.

He leaned into the kiss, savouring the moment, feeling the soft scratch of his beard against her skin. When he pulled back she kept her eyes closed, she could hear him moving. Knowing what he is going to do.

She heard the door closing, reality crashed back in, and a single tear escaped, trailing down her cheek. In the quiet of the room, she couldn't help but wonder why it hurt so much. The sudden ache in her heart caught her off guard, leaving her feeling raw and vulnerable.

Her eyes where still closed, her fingers moved over her lips, trying to hold on to the lingering sensation of Ben's kiss.

Please like, share or comment when you liked the story. If you liked this, please check out my masterlist for other stories.

Tag list:-> If you want to be added let me know what you like to read!

@yvonneeeee

@suckitands33

@mostlymarvelgirl

@globetrotter28

@jackles010378

@hobby27

@call-me-mrs-winchester

#jensen ackles #x reader #fanfic #fluff #angst #soldier boy #the boys #jensen fucking ackles #light angst #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy fanfiction #soldier boy x you #jensen ackles soldier boy

182 notes · View notes

conkreetmonkey · 2 months ago

Text

So Jack Marston was 4 in 1899. He was 19 in 1914. This has some truly crazy implications about the time periods Jack could reasonably live to see. Despite the low likelihood of it given his lifestyle, let's assume he lives to die of old age.

(it's a long one under the cut)

Jack Marston would be 25 in 1920, meaning he would be in the prime of his life during the roaring twenties. He would be 34 on Black Tuesday in 1929, and live through the Great Depression, coming out the other side at 46 years old.

He would live through both world wars, so if we're assuming he's somehow cleaned up his name and is no longer n outlaw, perhaps existing under another identity, he would be drafted into at least one world war, as he would live through both WWI and WWII. Let's assume he either dodges the draft or survives the battlefield; likely the former, as he'd still hate the federal government with a burning passion, and is no stranger to evading their grasp.

When WWII ended in 1945, Jack would have been about 50. He'd have seen both gunslingers and nukes in his lifetime. He'd have watched horses be replaced by cars, and airplanes become a mainstream technology.

Jack Marston would be 55-65 in the 1950s. He'd witness the development and popularization of plastic, TVs pop up in every home, and hyperconsumerism become the norm as wrinkles set in and his hair started falling out. At this point, especially for the time, he'd truly be getting old. Maybe he'd have kids, or even grandkids by thus point. Would he be happy, having experienced the best and worst of America? He was probably too old to serve in Vietnam; there's no way he wouldn't have some sort of disability by this point.

Jack Marston would be 75 in 1970. At this point, death of old age becomes exponentially more likely with every passing year, but let's be hyper-optimistic just to push this to its limits. Jack would witness hippies. Would he like or dislike them, these men who despise the government-mandated bloodshed he'd lived through, yet resisted through bright colours, bongoes and weed?

Old Man Marston, if still kicking, would be 85 in 1980. Probably going senile by this point, but if still mentally sharp and with nimble enough fingers, Jack could have played Donkey Kong at 86. He could have set foot in an arcade, assuming he can still walk.

Now, as egregiously unlikely as it is, let's assume Jack lives to 100. An obscenely old age, especially given all the things he's lived through. The stress, the bullets, the cigarette smoke and lead paint... let's assume his body remains functional despite it all, some defiant force deep in his soul refusing to let him die.

If he lived to 100, Jack would have died in 1995.

Think about how insane that would be. A man raised by the last remnants of the wild west, fading out as the internet begins. He'd have seen the moon landing, and eaten at McDonald's.

Six more years, and he would have witnessed 9/11.

Jack's great grandchildren, assuming he and every child afterwards reproduced at age 30, would have been about 10 in '95. They'd have been millennials. They'd be 35 during the beginning of the Covid lockdowns. They'd be alive today, and remember their great grandfather. Perhaps they inherited a few hats and antique guns. Perhaps they now live in sprawling urban environments like Saint Denis or Blackwater, watching electronic billboards and anti-homeless architecture go up, rent go up 20% per year, and a sandwich go from $5 to $15. Maybe they'd watch Jack's now-senile firstborn lose money that used to, long ago, belong to the Van Der Linde Gang, falling for a Nigerian prince or Google gift card scam.

Or maybe Jack Marston's kid(s) died to Covid. It's entirely possible, nay plausible given the timeline as it exists. Jack was one generation away from possibly living to read Homestuck or watch Space Jam in the old folks home.

What do you think Arthur, John and Jack would think if there was an afterlife, looking down upon what America had become in 12 short decades? Would they relate to John's great-great-grandchildren, to living in a time and place that doesn't want you? To the impossibility of making an honest living, of escaping America's newest model of the Orphan Crushing Machine? Would they see Dutch echoed in Trump, Cornwall in Bezos or Musk? An empire they watched grow up begin to slow down from age, never ceasing in its quest to ruin as many lives as possible?

How would they feel, watching Jack's 9 year old great-great-grandchild, still bearing the Marston name, do active shooter drills in her classroom as the air turned to poison and the summer to a kiln? As men like Dutch prod her along into a life of miserable servitude to a gang of thieves, elevated to untouchable American royalty with Pinkertons and the law as their knights?

Personally, I think they'd be quite upset.

#rdr #rdr2 #jack marston #john marston #red dead #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption #red dead redemption two

84 notes · View notes

astroismypassion · 2 years ago

Text

Astrology observations 🌙🌙🌙

Credit @astroismypassion

The highest vote in the poll was request for astrology observations by readers, so enjoy!

🌙 Pisces Moon people are surrounded with close friends that physically reflect their subconscious mind and mirror them, but Pisces Moon is not aware of it. If Pisces Moon native overuses certain substances, they could have friends that are drunkards just as an example. Or they have friends that live in their own reality which physically reflects that Pisces Moon native might not be completely in touch with their own reality or not accept certain facts of reality.

🌙 Neptune, Uranus in the 2nd and 3rd house, Saturn in the 3rd house people might not own TV, but they could own other gadgets, such as laptop, tablet... With that being said, Uranus in the 3rd house still use Kindle in 2023 and they just love it. They also love reading from an electronic device, such as tablet or computer.

🌙 Pisces Moon can return to the home they grew up in once they retire (or they never left in the first place).

🌙 If you have Sun in the 8th house, Leo over the 8th house, Sun Pluto negative aspect you might have witnessed your father experience great challenges with money, might have even declared personal bankrupt at some point. Pisces Moon, along with Pisces IC people experienced other people providing for their basic neccesities in their family. Like they didn't have to pay electricity bill, phone bill instead a family member paid that for them.

🌙 Gemini IC, Gemini Moon, Cancer over the 6th house find everyday life really really tiring. They literally feel weighted down by life on a daily basis and find dealing with daily life very challenging. Just washing the dishes, going to work, showering and also those mundane duties can be overwhelming to them much more than most people.

🌙 Neptune in the 4th house, Pisces over the 4th house and Pisces Moon might experience poverty like retirement, they could live below the poverty line after retirement and majority of money will go only towards providing food. They could also not have any idea how they will spend their old age and how life after retirement will look like for them. This is the type that doesn't really have an retirement account at all. They might not really understand the whole meaning of savings until retirement or they could have low pension.

🌙 People with Pisces Sun, Sun at Pisces degree or Sun in the 12th house have huge fandoms (Pedro Pascal (Sun at Pisces degree), Justin Bieber (Pisces Sun), Selena Gomez (Sun in the 12th house) as examples.

🌙 Chiron in the 7th house, Libra Chiron, Venus Chiron could have a partner that makes more money than them, but the Chiron person is still the one paying more or treating them when out or with gifts.

🌙 Taurus Sun 🤝Cancer Sun holding a grudge, who would win?

🌙 Cancer over the 6th house lived with a very changeable mother in the past and usually results in a very moody, not very stable partner with huge mood swings.

🌙 Libra Chiron are self-conscious about their marriage. They might have second thoughts about their partner, if they are settling or people harshly judge their marriage.

🌙 Moon in the 7th house and Cancer Descendant people, along with Cancer over the 7th house attract people that are much more sensitive then them and also much moodier.

🌙 Cancer Sun men physically resemble their father so much.

🌙 Libra Chiron might have a marriage spouse that they keep a shared account with. Yet, they could later discover that their spouse is not really such team player as they initially thought, they could have a separate savings account or another secret bank account.

🌙 Moon in the 4th house, Aries Moon women often get told they look like their mother. But the difference is also in that Moon in the 4th house native processes feelings, experiences emotions the same way their mother does.

🌙 There is often Aries Moon or Scorpio Moon found in the home of two same Sun signs. You could have a mother Taurus Sun, a daughter Taurus Sun and most likely the child of the parent of the same Sun sign as them would have Aries or Scorpio Moon. Their basic identity (Taurus Sun) is the same, so they are much more easily and freely direct with their gut reactions and more straight-forward with emotions since there is no character barrier due to the shared Sun sign.

🌙 On that note, Pisces Moon is often found in children that have opposing signs or a sign that is next to the other sign. In examples of a parent being Gemini Sun, the child is Sagittarius Sun with a Pisces Moon. Or Capricorn Sun parent, Aquarius Sun child, then this child would often have Pisces Moon due to already intuitive understanding of neighbouring or opposing Sun signs, so the child often has Pisces Moon. Also, Gemini Sun parent, Cancer Sun child would often have Pisces Moon.

🌙 Feminine signs (Taurus, Cancer, Virgo, Scorpio, Capricorn and Pisces Sun) in astrology often have a daughter as first born child.

🌙 Mercury in the 4th house native have overbearing mothers much like Saturn in the 4th house, but Mercury in the 4th house native’s mother is more apparent and vocal, mostly always questioning the native or just asking them a lot a lot of questions.

Credit @astroismypassion

917 notes · View notes

dollhouse-lied · 23 days ago

Text

Creepypasta headcannons i have

Tw: sh mention, murder talk, sex talk (light)

Jeff the killer

He comes off extremely rude and he is, what you see is what you get with him

He is the definition of a pervert, almost obsessed with sex. Hes extremely non committal, but he has enough respect for his hookup to let them know that its not anything more than a hookup to him

He is very unkempt, rarely showering. Because of this he REEKS of axe body spray. Shower in a can.

His clothes all have some level of blood or dirt on them, he only washes clothes when they are borderline unwearable.

He will never admit it, but he has a soft spot for animals. However, if he comes across a hurt animal, he will “put it out of its misery” even if the animal could live.

His room has piles of random things hes stolen from his victims, including a box full of family photos. His reasoning is that he doesn't want the victims familys to have any keepsakes. The rest of the creepypastas think its weird.

He spends most his days laying in bed on his phone or playing video games with ben, waiting for night so he can go pick out and stalk his victims.

He puts great care into choosing his victims, mainly choosing the ones who look like they could put up a fight. He lives for the struggle, feeling that adrenaline rush and satisfaction for when he finally kills them

Eyeless jack

Hes a sweetheart to those he cares about, choosing to spend his time around people he knows. He comes off very stoic, but in reality he just doesn't know how to interact with people.

He has a large knowledge about medicine and how to treat wounds that has made his room very popular in the mansion. He offers his services for free, but he doesn't offer any numbing or anesthesia if you happen to need something like stitches.

He is very quiet, only speaking if he has something important to say.

He doesn't quite know how to keep a romantic relationship, but he tries his best. He is devoted to his partner, treating them like a god/godess.

His victims are all women, particularly pretty women. He enjoys breaking something delicate and fragile, cutting them open and displaying their pretty organs.

He likes to “play” with his victims, often splaying them out like an art piece with the organs he doesn't eat hidden around the house.

His room is oddly neat, with little bloodstains or dirt. He hates messes, obsessive over keeping a steril environment for his “patients”. He doesn't even eat in his room, fearing a spill.

Ticci toby

Toby is…. something alright.

He is the definition of bipolar, switching between happy and bubbly to homicidal and aggressive at the drop of a pin.

He is usually found up in a tree, watching the forest. He takes comfort in knowing that the world goes on when hes not there.

He is suicidal, but usually takes out his emotions by hacking up someone. Murder is his favorite coping mechanism, treating the victims dismemberment as a sort of “play therapy”

He doesn't have a favorite type of victim, but he does tend to kill more men than women, rarely choosing to kill children. They scream too much.

His partner, if he was stable enough to get one, would be treated well enough, receiving gifts and little signs of affection. He isnt the touchy feely type, as he cant really *feel* it. It might be nice for the partner, but toby isnt THAT considerate

He keeps his room clean, but it does get messy when hes having a down swing.

He is kind of a hoarder, having shelves full of various trinkets and rocks he likes.

He also has a book of pressed flowers, as he feels safest while in nature. The natural world is beautiful to him, keeping him sane.

Ben drowned

Ben is a little shit. Poltergeist is the best term to describe him, constantly tormenting the residents of the mansion by messing with their electronics.

He can fly, but it takes effort, something ben doesn't really like to put in. He walks most the time.

He can enter people's electronics at his whim, pissing off everyone with his antics

He loves going through peoples cameras and inserting himself into the photos while in the digital world, as well as deleting random apps

He loves anime, often putting the shows on 1.5x speed so he can watch quicker. Hes totally a weeb, having posters of attack on titan and jjk up in his room

Speaking of his room, its a disaster. He hasnt cleaned it in god knows how long and it stinks like ass covered up by the cherry incense he lights.

He isn't interested in romance, it has never occurred to him that someone may be interested in him.

Hes very self centered, doing most things soley for his benefit.

He doesn't really like killing, as it takes too much energy. He would rather play video games instead.

He doesn't have to eat, but he chooses to anyways. Why not when food tastes so good?

Sally

She might be only a child, but shes not stupid. She knows that she is looked at like a stupid child so she uses that to her advantage.

She is absolutely ADORED by slender, having tea parties with him whenever she can. She sees him as a father, calling him “dad” at times.

Her room is full of stuffed animals, as she finds comfort from having them to protect her while she sleeps.

She has frequent nightmares, often waking up shaking and crying. She runs to maskys room when this happens, as she knows he will protect her. They usually end up watching tv on the couch where sally falls asleep, causing tim to carry her to her room.

She doesn't like killing, as it reminds her too much of her past. Slender refuses to have her do anything but what she wants, so she gets to be at the mansion all day, going out with the proxys to the store if needed.

Masky

He is totally hooked on cigarettes, smoking almost a third of a pack a day. He knows its bad for him, but its one of the few things that brings him joy.

He has restless leg syndrome, constantly bouncing his leg while sitting. It pisses jeff off for some reason, but to be fair everything tim does pisses jeff off.

You will often find him sitting by a body of water as he finds the sound soothing. It acts as an escape from his horrible intrusive thoughts.

He really is slenders lap dog, despite how much it irks him. He cant help it, where else is he supposed to go? He has to help slender to keep himself safe.

He always is slightly cold, wearing two layers and gloves. It pisses him off because people (jeff) are always making comments about it

He sees toby as a kid, not really realizing how much it pisses toby off. Masky feels like a parent to him, but toby sees tim as nothing more than an adult trying to control him.

His room is full of various posters of his favorite bands, specifically deftones. He keeps it tidy, but theres always a slight mess that he claims he knows where everything is, but he constantly is losing something.

He likes killing, but its also just a job. He doesn't see his victims as people, but as an obstacle he has to eliminate. He prefers killing sex offenders, as he sees it as a good deed to the world, as well as because of sally. He can't imagine a child like sally getting assaulted, so he takes them out in the most painful way he can think of.

Hes not gay… but hes definitely not straight. He cant imagine having an exclusive partner, but an open relationship would be nice.

Hoodie

Hes quiet, but he listens. He knows all the drama in the mansion, despite not personally knowing most the people involved.

Most people forget he exists, which is exactly how he wants it. Hes not one to get in anyones way.

He loves sally, giving her gifts, flowers, anything she wants. Sally sees him only as tims friend, not really as a caretaker.

He constantly gets on maskys nerves by taking his things and using them, placing them back in a place he knows tim will look and know it was moved.

He has feelings for tim, but doesn't quite know how to express them, so he just plays little pranks and smacks his ass. Thats his idea of flirting. Tim doesn't find it funny.

He loves weed, and smoking a blunt in the woods is his ideal night. He always smells like weed, which is part of why sally doesnt really like him.

Hes a clean person, keeping his room comfortable and in order. He showers a little too infrequently, sometimes having greasy hair for a couple days too long.

He has a mild drinking problem, but he is aware of it and is trying to cut back, choosing to smoke instead.

Clockwork

BAD BITCH ALERT!!!

She's muscular, but mainly trains for strength instead of looks. She exercises obsessively, bordering on unhealthy amounts.

Shes a total gym bro, drinking protein shakes that she keeps in the mini fridge in her room specifically so no one steals her food.

She and nina are best friends despite being polar opposites. They work out together, nina usually tapping out long before clockwork does.

She is brash, not afraid to speak her mind or punch someone if needed.

She hates all men, but can tolerate masky, hoodie and toby. They treat her well enough, respecting her boundaries.

She loves killing men, joining tim when he kills child predators. She knows not all men are bad, but that doesn't really matter. A man is a man, and she doesn't like them.

She loves sally, but keeps her distance. She doesn't want to be seen caring for anyone, despite desperately craving love and attention.

She wishes she could trust enough to have a partner, but she lets her fear get in the way when she has a chance. She ruins he relationships on accident without really knowing why. Its just instinct to isolate herself.

Her room is clean, clothes organized by color and a mini kitchen in the corner. She often cooks for her best friend nina.

Nina the killer

Shes THE scene queen.

She feels stupid for ever idolizing jeff after realizing who he really is so she strives to prove she is better than him.

Slender loves her, admiring her drive and ability to preform well in missions

She is especially skilled in stalking, watching her victims for days before hand

She uses social media to find victims, catfishing men and women to meet her and then killing them in their own home.

Her favorite method is strangling, as she feels it proves how strong and capable she is. She is right.

Her natural hair is light brown, but she dyes it black and pink every 2 months.

She has freckles, but she covers them up.

She spends most her days stalking or on her phone, calling people shes catfishing for hours.

Clockwork tries to pull her out of her room but after 5pm it's impossible to get her out without a food bribery.

She definitely has borderline personality disorder, but she has a handle on it. Her favorite person right now is clockwork, and when she splits on her, clockwork takes it calmly and lets her cool off. Nina always apologizes and appreciates clockwork for her patience.

She does self harm, but usually bullies herself out of it because “thats cringe”

She wants a relationship, but refuses to acknowledge that shes a lesbian.

#ticci toby #ticci toby fanfic #jeff the killer #eyeless jack #nina the killer #ben drowned #clockwork creepypasta #masky marble hornets #mh masky #hoodie mh #hoodie marble hornets #sally creepypasta #slenderman #slenderverse #creepypasta fandom #creepypasta

51 notes · View notes

spiderfreedom · 1 year ago

Text

women must learn about technology

one of the most common gender-limited roles across the world is the making of musical instruments. in the majority of cultures, men make musical instruments. flutes are almost exclusively made by men.

this may seem like a weird little curio - i certainly thought it was - until you read more. in many cultures, instruments are played by the people who make them. if women don't have the knowledge to make instruments, then they can't play the instrument, because instruments may not be made as gifts. instruments become gendered. men resent women entering on their space and refuse to share technical knowledge with them on how to play or make the instrument. women are limited to singing (if that) or simple instruments that they can make. there are very few instruments that "only" women are allowed to play/make.

in its extreme form, this results in taboo musical instruments (usually flutes for some reason) that women may not see or hear on pain of death.

"so what", i hear you say. "what do musical instruments have to do with anything?" well, it shows that one of the most common ways to limit women and raise up men is to prevent or discourage women from having technical knowledge.

even in our allegedly """superior""" western cultures, music production and engineering is almost entirely male-dominated. ask women in production and sound engineering, and you'll find that they face not just benign sexism/prejudice but downright hostility.

men become associated with technology. technology from tekhnos - art or craft. women become associated with spiritualism, the immaterial, the unprovable and ineffable ("we are reclaiming our feminine power through astrology!") or alternatively the body, the base, the mundane, the maintenance work, using machines and technology that they did not create.

knowledge is power. men have historically guarded certain kinds of knowledge/power from women. today, too many men continue this gatekeeping. "don't worry your pretty little head about how a car works, missy." too many women are happy to let them, afraid to challenge their learned helplessness. "I'm a passenger princess! i'm too dumb to know how a washing machine works!" (and i even see feminists say things like "thank god a butch woman was here to help me change my tires." why associate technological knowledge with a certain gender presentation?)

learning about technology can be scary. it's complicated and there's a large body of material to challenge. many of us have been conditioned into learned helplessness, and it's easier and more immediately rewarding to ask someone else to take care of our technological issues for us. there's the issue of stereotype threat where we're afraid to fail and confirm negative stereotypes of women. but if we're serious about empowerment, we must remember knowledge is power. women who know about carpentry don't need to rely on men. women who know how to fix their car can intelligently converse with male mechanics. knowledge is the thing they can't take away from you, you carry it with you where you go, and you can share it with other women. you don't need to learn about every field of technology - pick one that piques your interest (electronics? electricity? carpentry? HVAC? auto mechanics?) and begin reading about it. do beginner diy stuff. over time, you'll gain confidence and useful skills. then help fellow women.

#mypost #feminism #radical feminism #female separatism

125 notes · View notes

hauntedhowlett-writes · 1 year ago

Text

title: father’s day

pairing: post outbreak!joel miller x gender neutral reader

rating: none

summary:

Father’s Day is hard for Joel Miller after losing his daughter.

content warnings/tags: no use of y/n, references to grief and child loss. i don’t think there’s any others, but please let me know if i’ve missed any.

Joel grows more quiet toward the middle of June, his gaze more distant as he moves through the motions of living as guilt weighs heavy on his mind. The phantom fingers of grief curl around his heart, squeezing tightly as he tries to live each day like he didn’t lose his whole world twenty years ago.

He wonders what Sarah would have been like, had the world not gone to shit. Would she have stuck with soccer? Been a good student? Gone to college? What would her degree have been in? He thinks about a little girl with curly hair carrying around her pretend veterinarian toys, diagnosing her stuffed animals, and his throat clogs with emotion.

Joel Miller was a father.

He’s not anymore.

_______

You notice how Joel, who’s already a man of few words as it is, starts to speak less over dinner. As June wears on, the days bright and warm, Joel grows colder. Ellie comes to you with concern one day.

“What’s wrong with Joel?” The young girl asks bluntly. “He’s more of a sad motherfucker than usual.”

“Might be because of Father’s Day,” you tell her as she sits at the table.

“What’s that?”

You tilt your head. Sometimes you forget that Ellie has lived through so much, yet so little all at once. Growing up in a government controlled orphanage and spending your formative years in a military prep school probably didn’t leave much room for learning about many holidays.

“It’s just what it sounds like. A day to celebrate your father,” you tell her.

She’s quiet for a beat before asking, “That why Joel’s so upset?”

“Yeah, that would be my guess.”

“What do you normally do for Father’s Day?”

You think back to your past life, one where you’d had a blood family rather than a found one. When you were a young child, your mom would sign your name to a card from the store and you’d watch as your dad opened a gift he’d specifically requested. In your teens, you would buy him a card yourself and usually a book, something feasible with your part-time job earnings. And the last Father’s Day you remember, you’d been eighteen and away at college, only able to offer him a brief phone call between classes.

“Well, I guess it depends on the kind of relationship you had. There were cards you could buy, and stores would have sales on things like tools or electronics. Some families might have a special meal. People who lost their fathers might visit their grave. If you didn’t have a father or a good relationship with one, I imagine you’d let the day pass without acknowledgement, just another Sunday.”

Ellie nods. “Joel needs a new belt. I’ll ask Marlon to show me how to make one,” she says, referring to the town’s craftsman.

“You…wanna get him a gift? For Father’s Day?” You ask in surprise. Her cheeks heat with a pink flush as she shrugs, looking anywhere but at you.

“I mean, I guess. He’s the closest I’ve had to one,” she replies. You smile at her.

“I think that’s a wonderful idea, Ellie.”

________

Joel lets himself into the house, veins warm from the whiskey he’d had at the Tipsy Bison with Tommy. It had been a silent affair, but a needed one for both men, one mourning a daughter and the other his beloved niece.

He removes his boots at the door before journeying to the kitchen, making a beeline for the sink to get himself a glass of water to wash the lingering taste of whiskey from his mouth. It’s not until he’s about to leave the kitchen does he notice what’s on the table.

There’s a folded piece of paper with his name on it tucked beneath a coiled leather belt. Joel picks up the belt, admiring the stitching and the thick silver buckle. Ever since returning to Jackson, his waist has filled out more thanks to the labor and actual food, not rations or scavenged canned goods, doing his body a favor.

He picks up the card next, Ellie’s familiar scratchy handwriting spelling out his name in large letters on the front. He opens it, reading the message inside.

Why should people stop buying belts?

Because they go to waist.

Happy Father’s Day

Ellie

Joel grits his teeth against the surge of emotion in his chest, eyes stinging with tears. Movement at the corner of his eye catches his attention.

“You put her up to this?” He asks you, gesturing with the belt in his hand.

“Nope. Came up with that all on her own,” you reply with a smile.

He looks at his gift in bewilderment.

Joel Miller was a father.

Perhaps, in the ways that matter most, he still is.

Want more Joel Miller? Check out my masterlist.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #no use of y/n #joel tlou #joel x reader #joel miller x gender neutral reader #ellie williams

258 notes · View notes

pupyr0arz · 6 months ago

Note

May we have a crumb of kidnapper!Gaz cuddling with his beloved? After bringing them nice gifts just bc so ofc theyd let him love on them bc he treats them like a deity?

Ask and ye shall receive 🫡 it gets there eventually. I might write more straight fluff after this.

He watches as you flip through the glossy catalogue. He gives you new ones every other day, it feels, leaflets and cutouts and magazines. Women’s clothing, men’s clothing, food, perfume, watches for you to show any interest in any of the pictures. He still doesn’t trust you with anything electronic, even with him in the room, and gave you a tight smile when you asked. You ignore the guilt you feel for bothering him about his rules, the welling shame that he’s stressed over you when you refuse to eat. Leftover, misplaced reactions. You haven’t seen another in months, it feels, he’s taken up the spots of your friends and family when you got particularly depressed, and you’re stupid brain is transferring that onto him.

You snap out the scented cardpaper that came with the magazine, activating it with a rub of your fingernail. It smells like flowers more than it does chemicals, hearty and thick. He doesn’t seem to have much of a budget, like some kind of cartoonish villain that spawned from somewhere. Some lonely rich man refusing to fed his dog anything but imported caviar.

“Do you like it?” He interjects, leaning forwards with his hands on his thighs. They twitch, and you know he wants to grab you, but he doesn’t touch you. He never does. What kind of man kidnaps someone, and then respects their boundaries afterwards? “It’s a nice brand.” He encourages, like he’s asking a toddler to eat their vegetables, like when he’s bothering you about your health. “I’ve found myself a fan.”

You already know he wears perfume. You set the card down before you crush it, not wanting to dwell on that memory with him in the room. “I think it’s fine.” You say roughly, and you know you’ll wake up with it on your nightstand like everything you show the tiniest smidge of approval for. The angry tone of your train of thought sputters and stops as a smile breaks out over his face, eyes softening.

“Thank you,” he says like you’ve just jumped into traffic to save his dog’s life, and you have to cling on to the head of resentment that he’s doing this to fuck with you. It’s the only thing in this goddamn room you can hold on to, your fingers will slip on silk sheets and his stupid outfits and nice words.

“When do I get out of the dungen?” You prod, and a flash of annoyance crosses his face. He hates what you call ‘your room’, carefully insists upon it being your home now, like some kind of refuge. You aren’t of the opinion that anything involving chloroform counts.

“Sweetness,I want you to get settled in first, you know that.” He chides softly. He doesn’t yell, doesn’t hit you, doesn’t do a goddamn thing but treat you like some fucked up stray he picked up off the street. Your eyes dart to his hand. He doesn’t have a bandage there anymore, and you resist the impulse to reach out, open the floodgates and feel for any remaining damage. “You don’t need to be more stressed than you already are. I promise, when you’re feeling up to it I’ll take you out. Wherever you want.”

“My house?” You jab and he leans back, gives you a conflicted look like he cares and you cut him off. “What if I never get better?”

His brow furrows. “You’re improving.” He says, but you have him on the back foot now.

“It’s been months, hasn’t it? I’m still not ‘adjusted’.” The magazine crumples in your fist. “What if I don’t break like you want me to? If you can’t fuckng Stockholm syndrome me into your pet?”

Kyle doesn’t look scared, or even upset. His face had smoothed out sometime during your rant into warm, affectionate amusement. “Darling,” he says, tone indulgent, “My career gives me some insight here. We might be taking it slow, but you’ve made so much progress. We’ve made so much progress.” He gets off of the bed, raising a hand to cut off your attempt at retort. His anxiety is replaced with his calm, confident conviction.

“I promise, everything is going to work out like I told you.” He pauses, and adds in a more condescending voice, “do you think I don’t know what I’m doing?”

You drop the baller up magazine on the ground, bile welling up in your throat, and flop onto your bed. You bury your face into your soft pillows like some kind of stupid teenager, fear and helplessness making you clench your fists because he believes it, he absolutely believes it'll work, that he can wear you down, and he’s not going to let you go.

He picks up the magazine before he leaves. He’ll be back in what you’ve taken to calling half an hour, give or take, ready to start prying at you again. It’s still at least eight more days of this before you have the chance for a short break, if he vanishes off to work where he studies psychological torture and kills people with the million guns in his car.

You can’t help but believe it too.

—

You wake up feeling uniquely reckless. You’re alone right now, which is probably better because if he was here you might lung at him, if just to soothe the unplaceable itch underneath your skin. You can’t help but think of it as a game some days, some fucked up chess where you gain some by lashing out but lose more because of the way he smiles at you while he holds an ice pack to your jaw, apologizes for holding you down while you scream and thrash at him.

You want to tear up your sheets, but you can’t muster up the energy when he’ll have them replaced without a second glance. It feels like you can’t make mistakes here, like he doesn’t want a single thing from you.

You know what he wants.

You roll out of bed, flipping off the security camera in the teddy bear on your nightstand. He coats everything he does in pastels

and soft words and sweet things and it’s like punching a goddamn pillow. Not a speck of resistance, not a sign you’re making progress convincing him you’re a bad captive to have.

You take a sandwich and a carton of milk out of your mini-fridge, wanting to get it out of the way before he decided to come down and needle you to stick to your meal plan. You sit down at your little dolls-table, on your little dolls-chair with your plastic utensils. Maybe if you’re lucky he’ll go out today, leave you in the quiet for a few days. Long enough to remind yourself that glass breaks and you can bleed without him there to wipe everything spotless. Short enough that you don’t start rotting inside. It’s never that lucky, you’re always left trying to keep from watching the door, pretending you don’t hope that it’s his smiling face ready to carve away your memories of times without him.

You don’t know how many more points of failure you have left in you before you have to give up the ghost. You unclench your jaw, sticking your tongue beneath your teeth so you don’t grind your teeth together. You’re developing too many stress habits. He doesn’t tell you you’re being hysterical, but as you sit on a cushioned seat in a room full of all your favorite things, while eating your favorite foods, you’re starting to forget the taste of chloroform.

—

You wake to the side of your bed dipping under Kyle’s weight. He smells like gunpowder and wet leather, unfamiliar and harsh in the enclosed vivarium that’s become your home. Kyle’s wearing his outside clothes, usually so careful to keep the glossy barrier separating you from his work intact. You stare into the dark, not turning over as your limbs lock. Old, bad habits. He knows you’re awake.

“Sweetness,” he mutters in the dark, “can I touch?” He doesn’t say please, but you can imagine the word hanging heavy behind his lips, his pleading eyes locked on you.

“Yeah,” you mutter back, rolling onto your back. His hands come up immediately, shoving under your shirt and you yelp at the touch of his icy fingertips. Kyle tuts, pressing his head into your cheek, shushing you like some hysterical mutt. He’s glued to you in what must be seconds, determined to tangle your limbs together like every time he touches you it’s the last.

It doesn’t burn, but it melts something in you, angry scattered half thoughts of pushing Kyle away or denying him crumbling into inconceivable dust when he presses a sweet kiss to your cheek. Tentatively, you twine your fingers with him and his breath hitches, and then he sighs, ecstasy incarnate, relaxing on you with his full weight.

“I love you,” Kyle tells you like it’s a secret every time, like the words are something he’s stolen and fought and killed for. He has, and he’s come to present them to you like the jewels and the books and the presents. “I love you with my whole heart, every inch.”

You swallow, tucking Kyle’s head under your chin, feeling the warmth of his breath on your neck. “Okay,” you say, your voice very small and not quite there, but Kyle’s hand squeezes painfully tight for just a second. It’s the first time you’ve said a single word when he tells you, and you know it’s as good as at this point.

“So much,” Kyle says, voice wrecked like you’ve done something to him, tugging him undone with just your voice.

“Yeah.”

#Sorry it’s not super cute 😭 they just weren’t at that point #Now they are + midpoint #Maybe kgaz brings kidnapped a kitten or something #Gets allowed a hug or holding hands #Anon #writing #snippet #gaz #stalker gaz #cod x reader #cod #gaz x reader #kyle gaz x you #kyle gaz x reader #.bark #If it’s rough in places shhhh

48 notes · View notes

artzychic27 · 6 months ago

Note

We did one for Mme.Bustier and Marinette, so let’s do one for Mr.Damocles and what’s the worst thing he done to the science kids?

Marc

Did absolutely NOTHING when he was getting relentlessly bullied, despite the piles of evidence because the douchebag was rich

He only caved when Penny and Alyssa threatened him with some of Alyssa’s connections back in Greece

Aurore

Keeps dropping subtle hints to mention DuPont on the show, and it’s really starting to piss her off

He also cut funding for the journalism club,

Mireille

Usual celebrity kid treatment and keeps implying that she should have Alex make a generous donation to the school

Got on her case for beating some some guy for groping her, even when multiple students and teachers backed her up

Cosette

Compares them to their brother and sister any time they get called into his office, and asks only questions about Yvette and Jordyn whenever they cross paths

Told her to start covering up her vitiligo since it made some students “uncomfortable.”

Zoé

He keeps calling her Chloé, and it’s starting to piss her off

Hindering her learning experience by telling teachers not to give her homework and to mark all her tests as correct

Simon

Despite him having permission from Mme. Mendeleieve, Damocles listened to a bunch of rich kids who hated that Simon could be on his electronics during class, and confiscated him

Then the same same rich kids accused Simon of having a drug problem when he started fidgeting because he couldn’t use his phone or tablet, and police were called in to raid his locker in front of everyone

Denise

Used them as an example when a dress code was implemented after some douchbag lifted up a girl’s skirt. Basically said, “You young ladies could learn a thing or two from Mlle. Cabello.”

They were utterly humiliated. Not only were they singled out, but felt as though their gender identity was just invalidated in front of everyone

Ismael

Listened to some rich douchebag student about not letting him use the men’s bathroom anymore, so naturally, Ismael threw coffee in his face and called him a “Money-loving bitch.”

Everyone who protested on Ismael’s behalf was immediately suspended

Reshma

Keeps implying that it would benefit the school if her parents made a hefty donation. Every. Damn. Time.

He’s started bribing her with all sorts of gifts, and now her parents are very concerned

Lacey

Confiscated her climbing equipment from her locker (Which she uses in the event of an Akuma in the school, by the way) and accused her of breaking into the school multiple times despite a lack of evidence

Harassed her as The Owl for breaking into DuPont, which she never did, and she cringed so hard, her face broke in several places

Jean:

Damocles cut funding for the drama department to fund his Owl shit, and he shut down any student protests

When Jean went online about it, he was immediately suspended for two weeks

#miraculous ladybug #miraculous #marc anciel #Aurore béaureal #mireille caquet #zoé lee #answered ask #ask me stuff #mlb au #mlb ocs #Damocles bashing #salt

28 notes · View notes

snoozepotato · 2 years ago

Text

We’ll Be Fine -3- (Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x f!Reader)

Disclaimer: I do NOT own the original source material or any of its characters.

she/her pronouns

Congratulations, I have gifted you a younger brother for this story!

Category: slice of life, slow burn, mutual pining

Warnings: swearing

Masterlist

Summary: Your caught wearing an embarrassing outfit.

Part 3

~BUNNY SUIT~

Distinct knocking cuts through the droning hum of electronics, snapping you out of your trance and sending you bolting from your office.

Another round of deafening banging as you make your way to the front door. Louder this time a clear urgency on the other side. Rattling on its hinges from the force of each blow, tension builds in the back of your throat as you approach.

Tentatively looking through the peephole to assess the situation. Eyes narrowing at the sight of your brother's distorted face through the fisheye lens, two of his ‘little’ friends from the other day stand not far behind. Opening the door without another thought, a decision you regret almost immediately.

“The fuck are you wearing?!” Bewildered words fire from your brother. For a split second you're confused by the wide-eyed stars you were receiving before it hit you.

“Oh,” letting out a soft gasp, realization taking hold as you look down, also taking in your appearance. You could have died on the spot if not for your sliver of pride.

Clad in a rather unflattering hooded white jumpsuit with built-in feet… Face nearly completely covered by a white mask which you promptly tuck under your chin. You're a sight to behold!

“Bunny suit,” you state plainly like it’s an everyday occurrence and step back into the space, avoiding eye contact.

To be fair in your current line of work it’s not uncommon to wear protective gear. Not for your own safety but to keep sensitive equipment free of particles from you and your clothes. Oh so fondly referred to as a ‘bunny suit’ by others in your field... But this wasn't normal for your current company.

An awkward pause hangs between the men left standing outside, the front door left wide open in an obvious invitation but they are all now feeling a bit uneasy.

“Started getting worried when you didn’t answer the door, I noticed you moved the spare key,” your brother calls, eventually trailing after you, the others following suit.

“Was gonna break it down,” Ghost interjects. Your brother shoots him a dirty look as if silently cursing him for telling you their plan. Luling Your head to the side to shoot the man a quick glance over your shoulder. In all honesty with how forceful they had been knocking on your door, you're surprised they didn't.

“I didn't hear the knocking at first, sorry.” You turn from the three men standing in your flat, at least they didn't just barge in this time. Even so, their ability to show up at the most inconvenient times is beyond you.

“You seem busy, whatcha up to?” Soap inquiries, shooting you a crooked smile as he settles onto a sofa in the neighboring sitting area.

Making your way into the small kitchen you remove your gloves and mask, discarding them into a nearby waste bin. Happy to be rid of the constricting gear as you take a deep breath, thinking over how to answer.

“Freelance work,” you state plainly, deliberately being as vague as possible.

“Better be nothing illegal,” grumbles your brother, plopping down next to Soap on the sofa.

“Psh, don't worry about it,” you mutter, trying to lightly laugh the comment off.

“Debug!” He snaps

Turning to face him you reach up to pull back the thin material of your hood, letting out a deep breath. Suppressing the strong urge to roll your eyes at his mistrust, instead shooting him a narrowed stare.

“Calm down, it’s not... Just recovering some paranoid guy's corrupted hard drives, I set up a clean room in my office.” you motion down at your attire. This was already more than you wanted to share on the subject.

“I was just finishing up,” pausing a moment you shift your gaze between them “Why are you here anyway?” You suddenly ask, delighted to find a way to drop the topic of your work.

“Checking on you…” The sheepish statement sounds more like a question.

“Real reason?” arm cross brow quirked, you knew better than to trust that answer.

There's a long pause before he looks over at you sheepishly, a sly smirk spreading across his face.

“Baked goods…” he mutters and you can't help but let out a soft laugh.

“Ya, I thought so, check the kitchen,” you remark, making your way across the room and down the short hall, reaching for the door across from your office. Pausing, you glance around the corner at the mountain still standing near the doorway.

“Ghost,” you projected at him, the man's attention now completely on you. Catching his intense stare for a moment, you beam.

“Make sure he shares,” cheeky words uttered as the door is pulled open and you disappear behind it.

Ghost is left standing there looking off towards where she vanished, stuck pondering that wide grin she'd just flashed him. Maybe she wasn't scared of him… Why was this a relief?

The door to her office is left hanging open, the man's prying eyes catching a glimpse inside. One wall is dedicated to server racks, an organized chaos of cords strewn around the environment, loud humming emitting from the space. No wonder she didn't hear them knocking.

That's some serious hardware, what's going on here?

Thanks so very much for reading <3

@tallrock35

#simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley x female reader #simon riley #ghost mw2 #mw2 x reader #cod mw x reader #ghost x you #ghost x reader #call of duty mw2 #x reader #female reader #cod x reader #no beta read #swear warning #swearing #slow burn #slow build

230 notes · View notes

ashbrat488 · 8 months ago

Text

Candy - Chapter 2

Cassidy Face Claim 👆🏻

Word Count: 2111

Cassidy's boyfriend Joe takes her as his date to his company Christmas party where she meets his boss...

"That's a pretty necklace," Joe, Cassidy's boyfriend points out as he helps her out of the car. His jaw ticked, knowing it had to be from a client of hers. It was far too expensive a gift for her to buy for herself.

"Thank you," she preened, a grin on her face as she ignored his scowl. She knew that he was becoming increasingly jealous of her job. But she had been upfront with him from the beginning about what she did and why she did it, giving him an out if he so chose. She knew it was something they would have to address soon if they decided to continue dating. But for now, she was happy to be the pretty accessory on his arm for his company Christmas party.

"Just don't embarrass me," he spits as he hears her scoff, pinching his arm as he grunted. "Sorry," he bemoans softly, stopping in front of the door to turn and face her. "I'm just nervous. Forgive me?"

She smiles, lifting her chin up to him as he grinned, holding her chin between his thumb and forefinger. "Kiss me."

Joe leans forward to press a soft kiss to her lips as she ran her hand up into his blond hair, intensifying the kiss. He moaned softly before pulling away with a smirk. "That is not behaving." He chuckled as she giggled and his eyes fell once more to the necklace around her neck. It taunted him, the sound of another man laying claim to his woman.

Cassidy sighs, placing her hand over the necklace and linking her other arm back through his. "Let's go." She follows him into the large ballroom that was filled with music and cheerful conversation. Decorations of gold and red adorned the ceiling and the walls and tables of food were set along the side. "Wow."

"Right?" Joe grins in agreement as he looked around the large room, occasionally greeted by a coworker. He just started at the security firm at the beginning of the year, so this was his first Christmas party. He had been warned that his boss liked to go all out, but this was even more extravagant than he expected.

"Dance with me?" She practically begs as he laughs, nodding as he led her to where other people were already dancing. She wrapped her arms around his neck as he placed his on her lower back, pulling her body against his. "Thanks for bringing me."

"Of course." He smiled down at her, her big golden-brown eyes staring back up at him. It had been a little more than 6 months since he asked her out in a small coffee shop and she said yes. She had been sitting in the back, her face in her laptop, auburn hair hanging in her face.

When he found out about her job she had to pay for school, at first he was fine with it. He was all for women doing whatever they liked with their own bodies. But as their time together went on, he became increasingly jealous of the time she spent with other men. Were they better than him? More well-endowed? Did she have more fun with them?

Cassidy sees the wheels turning in Joe's head as his eyes fall to her heart necklace once more. She sighs, rolling her eyes. "It's just a gift. You have no trouble when a client gives me electronics or certificates to expensive restaurants. Or lingerie. They are meaningless as my relationship with them."

He frowns, grabbing the pendant in his hand. "This doesn't really seem meaningless. That meaningless gift is worth well over ten k."

She scoffs, knocking his hand away from her. "You said you were okay with what I do. That it is my choice..."

"I was! I... am..."

August turns away from his wife, Sara, and looks out over the guests that were dancing and laughing. He brings his drink up to his lips as his eyes fall on auburn hair. He pauses, freezing in his spot as the auburn hair moves, uncovering a mole on the shoulder surrounded by creamy white skin. White skin he knew every inch of by now. He set his drink down on the table beside him and moved like a moth to a flame toward his Candy where she danced with one of his employees.

Joe tenses, looking up past Cassidy as he saw his boss coming toward them. "We'll talk about it later. Please," he pleads softly as Cassidy rolls her eyes, turning around to come face to face with her Sir.

"Joseph," August starts, his eyes fixed firmly on Cassidy's, "who is this exquisite being?"

Joe chuckles nervously as he wraps his arm around Cassidy's waist. "This is my girlfriend, Cassidy Turner."

"Cassidy," August repeats as she offers up her hand and his eyes fall to the necklace hanging delicately around her throat where he placed just a few hours prior.

"Cass, this is my boss, August Walker."

"Nice to meet you, August," she offers as he presses a kiss to the back of her hand. They stand locked in an intense, but silent exchange as she watches his possessiveness kick in. It was something she knew well. He offered her the same look whenever she mentioned another man around him. The audacity she must have held to claim other men existed when he was around was too much for him.

"Pleasure is all mine, I'm sure of it." He pulls back, standing up straight as he notices Joe pull her tighter against his side. His left hand tenses, balling into a fist before hanging loosely at his side as he feels his wife take it in hers. "This is my wife, Sara."

"Mrs. Walker, so great to meet you," Cassidy preens, smiling widely at Sara as she smiles back. The woman was attractive for a woman in her early 40s. But she felt slightly uncomfortable as Sara examined her.

"You are a pretty girl," Sara blurts as August huffs, wrapping his arm around her waist.

"She's a little drunk. Nice to meet you," he spits, pulling Sara away from them.

"What was that?"

Cassidy drags her eyes away from August's back to look back at Joe with a smile. "What?"

"I don't know. He looked at you like he was going to snap my neck."

Cassidy laughs, resting her hand on the lapel of his jacket. "Don't be silly. Men check me out. It isn't the first time. Don't let it get to you. I've seen plenty of women checking you out and I don't say anything."

"Well, there's no chance I'm sleeping with any of them though, is there?"

She scoffs, stepping away from him, crossing her arms over her chest. "Excuse me?"

"Be honest with me. Have we ever run into one of your clients when we've been out?"

"What?!" She glances around uncomfortably as she feels her face flush, shaking her head. "I can't believe we are talking about this now!"

"Answer me!" His voice raises slightly as he takes a step toward her, grabbing her arm, ignoring the looks they were beginning to attract.

"No!" She rips her arm away from him and stalks off to the bathroom in a huff. She stands at the sink in front of the mirror trying to calm the anger pooling in her belly. It wasn't a complete lie. Though she had run into a client or two out in public, they always pretended to not acknowledge each other. This was the first time she ran into one with Joe and the first time she talked to one outside the bedroom. Now she knew his name and he knew hers. This complicated everything. She kept things the way she did for a reason. Now she would have to stop seeing August. But could she do that?

She groans, shaking her head as she decides to leave to get a drink. As she exits the bathroom, she feels August grab her arm, pulling her into an empty and dark office in the hallway. "What are you doing here?" He growls out, pinning her body between his and the wall beside the door. His hands are already on her waist, traveling down her thighs, pulling up the skirt of her dress.

"We can't... I can't..." she barely whimpers out as she feels his lips and beard on her neck. "Oh god," she moans.

"You can't come in here and tempt me and not expect me to take you." He undoes his slacks, pulling out his cock as her hand finds his hair. "Candy?" He teases as she groans, attempting to push him away. He doesn't relent, lifting her by her thighs, pushing her panties to the side to thrust into her as she gasped.

"This isn't..." she groans, resting her head back against the wall. "August..."

"Tut tut," he growls, nipping at her neck. He drags his tongue along her neck to her lobe. "You're wearing my necklace. My own personal branding... claiming you."

"You don't own me..." she mumbles as he chuckles, pulling his mouth away to look at her. She swallows hard at his intense gaze, his brows furrowed down as his jaw tensed. "You don't," she doubles down with a smirk just before he thrusts into her harder. "You know why I go by Candy?"

"Because your pussy tastes so sweet?" He teases, though completely serious. Her pussy was like the nectar of the gods to him and knew without a doubt there would be other men that agreed with him.

"No," she giggles, her mouth falling open into a whimper as she tried to focus. "Because boys love their candy. And I can be sweet or sour depending on their preference."

"I like sour and sweet," he confers, sealing his mouth over hers as she moaned against his mouth. "You're mine," he growls, grabbing her hand with one hand, and pinning them on the wall above her.

"You wish," she spits, enjoying his possessiveness more than she should be. She gasps as he places his other hand around her throat, squeezing as he rested his forehead against hers.

"I really fucking do." He hears her gasping for breath, pushing him closer to the edge as he felt her pussy contracting around him, her tiny body convulsing against his. "Fuck," he grunted, releasing her neck as he spilled his cum into her.

"That was..." she groans, shaking her head as she pushes on his chest until he sets her on her feet.

"Fucking amazing..." he answers for her as she frowns up at him.

"Maybe so. But I have rules! Boundaries! I don't fuck clients randomly in public! Unless they've paid for that."

"You want me to pay you? I will."

She scoffs as she watches him pull out his phone and she knocks it out of his hands. "That's not the point and you know it!" She pushes hard on his chest as he grunts, confused, as he fixes his slacks, tucking his shirt back in neatly. "We can't do this anymore. You're no longer my client, August."

"What?!" He grabs her arm as she tries to leave, pulling her against his, his mouth hovering by her ear. "You can't do that."

"Yes. I can. You're fired." She states firmly, pulling her arm away and stalking out of the room. She jumps slightly when she hears a loud crash in the room as she keeps walking. She smiles at Joe when she finds him talking to some coworkers near the bar.

"Are you okay? You look a little flustered." He brings his hand up to her cheek, cradling it gently as he pulled her off to the side. "I'm really sorry. I don't know what's wrong with me."

"No, I'm sorry." She takes off August's necklace and places it in his suit jacket. "You're right. I shouldn't wear stuff from clients around you. It was insensitive. Forgive me?"

He chuckles, smiling as he nods. "Kiss me."

She giggles, leaning up to press a kiss to his lips. "I don't feel that great. We met your boss and mingled. What do you say to cheeseburgers and a movie at my place?"

"That sounds perfect, baby. Let's go."

Cassidy turns to shoot a look at August, feeling his eyes on her from the corner of the room, following her out the door.

Chapter 3 Candy

Taglist If you want to be added or removed from my list, let me know 🫶🏻

@identity2212 , @alicedopey , @propelkitten , @critfailroll, @mrsevans90

#august walker x ofc #august walker #henry cavill #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill xofc #henry cavill au #august walker fanfic #august walker fanfiction

21 notes · View notes